


Sir, Miss, and girl

by Sherlocked4Life



Category: Original Work
Genre: Aftercare, Alternate Universe - Slavery, Angst, Blow Jobs, Consent, Cum Play, Dom/sub, F/F, F/M, Forced Orgasm, Kinky, Mostly porn, Multi, Objectification, Oral Sex, Ownership, Porn With Plot, Punishment, Rough Sex, Service Submission, Some Plot, Threesome - F/F/M, Worldbuilding, breath play
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-14
Updated: 2016-05-26
Packaged: 2018-06-02 04:41:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,956
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6551446
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sherlocked4Life/pseuds/Sherlocked4Life
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The standard instructions were simple: move to the center of the light, assume the position associated with your specialty, and wait. As a housebound generalist, the standard pose was standing (ready to serve) with hands rested on the front of each thigh (demure and relaxed), palms forward (offering obedience), and chin raised (confidently trained) but eyes downcast (deference to authority). She would spend much of the rest of her life in that position if everything went as expected, so in this one moment that was hers she would not lose her only chance to look her future master in the eye and show them how brightly the fire within her burned.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Auction

**Author's Note:**

> This is a world wherein some people are trained and sold as little more than interactive furniture to the kinky elite. We follow the life and experiences of a house girl and her slightly unconventional co-masters (Sir and Miss) - There will be lots of kinky sex in following chapters, promise.
> 
> Not my usual, but I hope you like it!
> 
> The story title is inspired by my current favorite kinky web comic: Sir, Butler & boy (http://www.discordcomics.com/comic/gay-buttlers-a-cream-tea-cover/)

Every training house had its own way of training their merchandise, but they all prided themselves on the results. Before going to market, every slave worth their silver had at least some level of competence in the standard requirements: positions training, protocol, and general care and maintenance of house and master. There were, of course, specializations ranging from homebound slaves (gratification, cleaning, childcare) to work aids (PA, accounting, hospitality) to pure status symbols. A person of significance likely collected one or two in each of those categories over time, and the bigger the estate, the more specialized the role each slave played.

This was the secret hope of every object up for auction, though they had learned long ago that hopes were no longer a luxury they were allowed. Training houses were very careful to create environments on the extreme end of what could be expected, the theory being that slaves would then be truly grateful for any show of care from future masters. The unspoken truth was that some of these slaves would never know kindness another day in their lives, so it was critical they were stripped of it early so they did not become accustomed to it. They couldn’t miss what they never had.

It was because of the level of preparedness her years of training had given her that her feet didn’t falter when the door opened to the presentation room and her stomach swooped and sunk like lead. This moment would determine what form the rest of her life would take – both in quality and in quantity – and she strode to the center of the small rounded room with a grace and calm she certainly did not feel.

The lighting was such that her olive skin glowed. She was not oiled down to the point of lacquer like a bed slave might have been, but she had certainly trained in gratification and, as such, entered nude. She had applied a lightly scented oil before entering, so the hot lamps on skin slightly flushed from anticipation teased the room with hints of citrus and bergamot.

Her dark hair had been cropped shorter than the standard range to accent her strong jaw and cheekbones. She was lean and well-muscled, but not too slight of build. A layer of healthy fat over her frame added curves that begged to be displayed or used, whichever the moment called for. Her eyes, though, were what set her apart today.

She had chosen her gambit as she entered. Once past the threshold the door was closed behind her and the room was hers. No one would enter the space again until she either had a master or all present had passed on her base price. In a life of subjugation, this moment was hers, and it was her only chance to influence the bidders.

The standard instructions were simple: move to the center of the light, assume the position associated with your specialty, and wait. As a housebound generalist, the standard pose was standing (ready to serve) with hands rested on the front of each thigh (demure and relaxed), palms forward (offering obedience), and chin raised (confidently trained) but eyes downcast (deference to authority). She would spend much of the rest of her life in that position if everything went as expected, so in this one moment that was hers she would not lose her only chance to look her future master in the eye and show them how brightly the fire within her burned.

Bathed in light, standing tall, palms turned out, and chin raised she took a calming breath and with the exhale allowed her eyes to make the journey from the edge of the circle’s light to the faces before her. The center of the floor rotated slowly so that all participants could get the full view of their potential merchandise, so as she spun she could just see into each of the walled cubicles that faced her.

It was a silent auction, but all ambient noise seemed to be sucked from the room as her eyes locked on the first potential master directly in front of her. Cubicle after cubicle passed before her, each tableau unique and alien to her own experiences. There were individuals and groups, there were even slaves to accompany some of the buyers kneeling or standing in proper form.

Perhaps it’s because she had no experience with masters, so no point of reference, but it was the slaves whose reactions came through loudest. Discomfort and embarrassment came from those members of the audience in powerful waves, but she continued to look nonetheless. A seated older man scoffed to the accounting slave stood behind him, oblivious to the way his boy seethed at her audacity. Three gratification slaves, two clearly fresh from this auction, focused intently at the feet of their statuesque mistress as she narrowed her eyes at the insolent slave before her.

But as each group passed before her dark, fiery eyes she could tell there was just as much curiosity and interest as there was disgust. A couple with no accompanying human property rotated in front of her, both well-dressed but clearly not wealthy enough for an estate. The woman looked back at her for a long moment with a fire of her own, then broke eye contact to murmur quietly to the man next to her. The intensity of the stare he leveled at the slave on display was overwhelming, and for the first time since this began she struggled to maintain the connection. Long moments ticked by as she slowly rotated away from them, but just before she had to shift to the next set of bidders she saw the corner of his mouth tick up in a feral interpretation of a smile. That smile held promise, and she shivered from the implication, a reaction he clearly caught as his eyes flared just before she was forced to move her gaze to the next cubicle.

Master after master, slave after slave, she met the gaze of every one, but as she rotated in the bright circle she could swear she still felt that couple’s eyes raking over her skin with intent. She couldn’t focus on anything else, and it was even money if what she was feeling was excitement or trepidation on what her decision had wrought.

After what felt like ages, and no time at all, the circle stilled. Her heart leapt into her throat as the door clicked open. She strode gracefully through, resisting the urge to search for the faces of that couple again to get a hint of what her fate might be. Her gamble was a dangerous one. Should it backfire and no one meet the minimum 2 silver bid for her services she would go straight to the public auction block, a worst case scenario for any slave. She pushed away the images of sweatshops and laboratories and focused on her gait as she was escorted through the halls to be introduced to her new reality.

The room she was sent into was small and brightly lit, with an empty table on the right wall and no chairs. Across from where she entered was another door, this one with keycard access, and she was left facing that door. Someone had met her minimum, and her master or mistress would arrive once the debts had been settled, so there she stood in position, eyes lowered now.

Master. It had always been an abstract concept in her training, this overarching purpose to everything they learned and practiced. Now she would have to start thinking of that term as the proper noun: Master. Title and name, center of her new world; it was still hard to make the perceptional switch while infinite possibilities for her future still lay ahead.

The door before her opened, and the click was startling enough in the silence to snap her from her thoughts, eyes darting up to meet the flint-sharp stares of the couple from the presenting room, locked on her like hunters on prey. Master _s_ , her brain supplied, and with slow deliberateness she let her gaze fall to the floor. Deference to authority; their authority and no others. How she hoped that message came through in her defiant display at presentation. With luck, it was the reason she was now theirs.

Behind them entered the head mistress of her training house carrying the remaining paperwork and accessories. These were the final formalities and then she would likely never see this woman or her home of 3 years again. The older woman set it all down on the table’s surface and turned to the couple.

“You may do a final inspection now before we formalize. That is your property now, so do as you will, but please refrain from any lasting damage if you think you may wish to retract your bid once this is complete.”

The couple stepped forward as one, shifting until they were bracketing their new acquisition and then slowly circling, hands tracing and caressing her arms, ribs, throat, breasts, back, ass, everywhere they could reach. Their touch, though unexpectedly gentle, was possessive, and even having accepted the designation of possession long ago she was not prepared for the emotional need those hands helped to fill with every second of contact. She felt drunk and dizzy from the intensity of that moment, only barely registering that the house mistress was talking again.

“As you know from the auction pamphlet, she’s completed training in housebound activities, meaning cleaning, mending, first aid, cooking, all the basics, as well as gratification for both men and women. She’s strong enough, eats little, drinks less. We’ve kept her off meat while she’s been with us, but what you feed her is your business. She has a fairly high pain tolerance, just this side of heavy masochist. We considered moving her to that track when she took so well to the cane, but she’s got a bit of spitfire in her, as I’m sure you noticed at the presenting.”

At that the house mistress shot a look at her former trainee for the first time. The look was meant as a warning, but there was something twinkling behind her hard-set features that was more difficult to read.

The moment was broken abruptly as her now Master took her chin roughly between his thumb and forefinger and jerked her face up and back to meet his.

“Focus, girl.” His eyes bore down into hers and his voice came low but clear in the now crackling atmosphere of the room. “Your world is only your Master and Mistress now, and you will do well to remember that.”

Like a light switch, the rest of the world blinked out of existence. If the training house mistress was still talking she could no longer tell. Nothing had prepared her for this new reality and she was reeling from intensity of it all. Her training had been geared towards that of general housebound slave, the expectations of which are mostly that if you’re doing it right no one will even know you exist. Living furniture and occasional tool for sexual release was what she was told her role would likely be, but of course she now remembered the disclaimer that came with every lesson: _The correct way to do anything is what your Master tells you is the correct way_. In the three years she’d trained she’d never truly understood the significance of that until now.

The tight grip on her chin relaxed and that hand opened up against her jaw, dragging back behind her head and threading into the short strands at the base of her neck. There was just enough hair there to grip, and her Master took advantage of this by fisting it tight and pulling down slowly, guiding her to her knees before him and then pressing her face to the outside of his thigh. It was warm and comforting, and as his fingers began to card through her hair, her eyes slipped closed and she just breathed deeply, content in this space.

She felt the loss of his presence like a splash of cold water. Her Master and Mistress crouched next to each other in front of her, each holding an open silver cuff, and she took a shuddered breath in at the sight. The cuffs appeared to be solid silver, each worth far more than her minimum bid price, with a smooth hinge to allow them to open at the center. There were no connection points for shackles, and the smooth surface reflected as clearly as a mirror and showed no signs of prior use. These were display cuffs, symbolic rather than for use as restraints. A newly acquired slave was rarely afforded such a luxury before earning the trust of her masters, and the implications of this offering was paralyzing.

No one moved for long moments, then her Mistress chose to break the silence. “Consent is important to us, we won’t have you against your will,” she said.

It was her willfulness that had brought them to her, it would seem, so she pulled at that strength to find the words she hoped would suffice. “I offer myself willingly and without trepidation,” she said quietly as she extended her arms to rest her wrists in each of the open cuffs, “I am my Master and Mistress’ will personified.”

With that both cuffs were clicked shut, magnetic locking mechanisms sealing the loops loosely in place. The cuffs had weight to them, enough that they couldn’t be ignored, and would serve as a constant reminder of her position, but the weight was surprisingly comforting as well. She was owned; she now had purpose and expectations, but at the same time she felt she would be cared for in return. She tried not to hope – she would learn soon enough if this were true – but as her Mistress and Master let go of the cuffs, they both cradled her hands in theirs and smiled.


	2. An Embarrassment of Silver

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Girl gets her first taste of her new life, and it's delicious. ;)

She’d be lying if she said the first few weeks had been easy. Sir and Miss, as they had instructed her to refer to them as, were indeed kind to her. They couched most orders as requests rather than demands, though there was never a question as to whether or not she would fulfill them.

They had welcomed her into their bed the first night, rather than being relegated to the floor, and it had been so long since she had been allowed on a mattress with pillows and a comforter that she hadn’t been able to hold back the tears. She had tried to take up as little of the California King as possible, sleeping right at the edge, but had been wrapped in warm arms and pulled close to Sir’s nude body almost immediately.

That night they had just slept, tired from a long day, but the morning brought with it new understanding of her role in this new life. Waking next to a warm body and enveloped in soft sheets, she had been slow to notice the hardened flesh between them.

Her training told her she should prepare for the day before her Masters woke, start coffee and breakfast prep so that when they awoke she would already be presented on her knees at the door waiting to serve, but the strong hands wrapped around her silver cuffs demanded a different sort of attentiveness. She rotated to face her Sir, and as she slipped beneath the covers a strong hand palmed the back of her head encouragingly, guiding her into place.

As her face came level with his warm cock, it pulsed with anticipation making her smile. She nuzzled into the crease of Sir’s inner thigh and breathed in the heady, warm scent of arousal. She realized she was trying Sir’s patience with her slow indulgence when his palm fisted the hair beneath his fingers and dragged her head back and up enough to place her soft lips against the wet tip of his cock. It was salty and slick and her tongue darted forward instinctively to capture the beads of pre-cum he had smeared across her lips and to press against the velvety flesh before her.

His fingers relaxed, giving her a bit of creative freedom with her task. She worshiped his length with the flat of her tongue, running it up and down every inch. It rubbed wet and sticky against her cheek as she sucked open mouthed kisses at the base, trailing back up to the head and then down again. As her tongue flattened against the tip again the pressure from the hand on the back of her head guided her down over the head of his cock.

She opened her jaw and sunk down the shaft until she could feel him pressing insistently at the back of her throat. Saliva trailed from her mouth down the rest of his length. She tried to swallow, but her throat had clamped shut at the sudden intrusion and refused to open. Her eyes watered, blocking her from breathing through her nose, and still the hand that held her in place pressed down harder. Long seconds ticked by and she fought the panic that seemed to be trying to claw its way into her mind through her lungs.

The vacuum in her chest had started to cause contractions, and survival instincts won out as she pushed back now against the firm hold behind her. Her jaw spasmed involuntarily and the sudden sting of teeth was enough for Sir to grab tight to her hair and yank her off of him. The ache of her scalp and awkward angle of her neck were small prices to pay in the face of the relief now pouring into her lungs with every wet gasp and coughing exhale.

The covers were thrown back, and she couldn’t tell if it was the chill of the room or not that made her blood run cold when she looked up into the stony face of seething disappointment above her.

“30 pieces of silver,” was all he said, but the minute shake of his head said it all. The tears that pricked her eyes had nothing to do with the rawness of her throat now, and when she held her breath this time it was from the realization that she had gone at auction for 15 times her asking price. That was a small fortune to spend on a generalist like herself, and the flattery was far overshadowed by the crushing weight of expectations she now had to live up to.

And god did she want to live up to them now. You were given only so many chances in this world, and she was well beyond her allotted number. Desperate to make up for even a hint of her failure she strained against his grip in order to feel the weight of him back on her tongue, the comfort of his strong hand encouraging her closer to him rather than tearing her away. She wrapped her arms around the backs of his thighs and palmed his muscular ass to try and draw his hips closer to her waiting mouth, but his grip held true and the image of his erection now swam before her eyes just out of reach.

“Do you want it, girl?” His tone of voice was terrifying, but not nearly as terrifying as the failure to meet expectations. She tried to nod, but to no avail, so she risked her voice.

“Yes! Please, Sir! Please! I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” she practically sobbed. In her watery vision she could see that her Miss was now propped up on her elbow and watching the proceedings lazily, pressed tight to Sir’s side.

“Should I?” The question was not directed at her, but she continued her simpering please and apologies quietly as background to their discussion.

“The poor thing,” she said, sounding more aroused than sympathetic. “How will she ever learn if you don’t let her practice?”

“Wasn’t that what we paid a premium for?” The hand not maintaining the vice-like grip in her hair was lazily stroking himself in a way that was driving his girl out of her mind as she struggled fruitlessly to reach his firm length. “Did our money go to waste, hm?”

She gasped as that hand now made stinging contact with the side of her face, and as her lips parted in a gasp the pressure on her scalp reversed, plunging her down to the base before she could even process what was happening. She was flooded with sweet relief, relaxing into the position naturally and sealing her lips tight and her teeth back.

Sir’s satisfied hum above her said he could also feel the shift, and again he took control, pulling back just enough to fuck into her throat at a punishing pace. Tears streamed down her face, this time from relief at being useful. Used.

“There, see? She’s doing so well.” Delicate fingers lightly caressed the girl’s arms and sides, but the shiver that ran down her spine was entirely from the praise.

She held on, and as Sir’s body tensed her mouth was filled with his sweet release. She let it coat her tongue and slide down her throat, but she made no attempt to swallow. There had been no discussions yet on protocol and she knew better than to act without permission. She pulled off with a pop of suction, careful not to leave any behind, and knelt back to present, hands resting on her knees with palms up, legs open, head down, and mouth full.

She could feel their eyes on her, but she steadied her breath in an attempt to calm her racing heart. Her earlier faux pas couldn’t justify the loss on investment auctioning her off would surely bring. She had at least shown she deserved another chance, hadn’t she? And Miss had seemed pleased, but Sir…

These thoughts did nothing to aid her cause, and her body shivered with nervous terror the longer the silence held. When it was finally broken, the voice was low and threatening, but warm.

“Go begin the day for us, girl, and keep that gift you’re holding until I say. Understood?”

Unable to speak, she nodded enthusiastically and left for her morning duties. Her Sir and Miss were seated at the table when she returned with a large tray of food and coffee. After serving she was directed to the corner between them where a floor pillow had been placed at their feet. She knelt and let their conversation roll over her until the clinking of utensils on plates signaled the end of the meal.

She made to rise but stilled when she felt the weight of Sir’s hand on the back of her neck. He circled it around to the front until his palm rested on her throat, thumb and fingers set right below the jaw tilting her head up until she met his eyes with hers.

“Would you like your breakfast now?” he asked, and when she nodded the smallest bit he leaned back, keeping his hand on her throat, and looked down at her through half-slitted eyes. “Then show me.”

Her eye’s widened and she tilted her head back as her mouth opened so the contents within wouldn’t overflow her lips. She could feel every inch of her mouth coated in cum, tendrils reaching from tongue to roof as she struggled to keep it all in while he looked his fill.

“God, that mouth looks so warm and slick. It’s a shame that I have so many other holes to try first or I’d see just how much I could put in there before you couldn’t hold another drop.”

The leer he gave her was predatory and his hand clenched down on her throat slightly, a show of ownership and domination. He leaned down until she could feel his lips feathering against her ear. “Would you like that, girl? Do you think you could take another load in there? Two?”

She could feel his smile at the sharp intake of breath through her nose. Her throat was so dry from not being able to swallow for so long, and she couldn’t imagine having to wait longer, but she would. Anything to keep her here and out of the danger of resale.

“Love, don’t tease,” her Miss chided, braking the spell.

Sir leaned up and kissed her out of the girl’s peripheral vision, then tilted the girl’s chin up until her mouth was closed, and with his hand still wrapped around her throat ordered, “Swallow.”

She swallowed greedily as she worked it down her dry throat, coating it all the way down. Sir’s hand could surely feel her eagerness, and he chuckled when she opened her mouth again to pant her relief. When he released her she thanked him, pressing light kisses to his thigh and working her way down to his bare feet.

“What are you thanking me for, girl?” he asked with a smile. He wanted her to say it, though he knew.

“Thank you for your cum, Sir,” she said, boldly making eye contact again as she did so. The satisfied smile she received in return proved her theory that her strength had been a selling point for this couple.

“Thank you for using my mouth,” she continued, kissing her way back up his leg. His hand fell lightly into her hair and began to pet her appreciatively.

“Thank you for not putting me up for resale.” No sooner was it out of her mouth then her Sir stilled completely, as did she. He couldn’t still be considering sending her away, could he? Despite her best efforts to control it, her full body shivers returned as she stared blankly from the horror of that prospect. She couldn’t stop the whine of desperation when he set her back on her heels, breaking physical contact for the first time since breakfast had ended.

“Ah,” was all he said before her tears broke free: hopeless tears, with no sobbing or hysteria. They were cold and resigned, tears meant to wash away all feeling so the resignation had somewhere to settle and take hold, a last wall to defend what was left of her dignity and accept her fate.

She hadn’t realized until then why her trainers had gone to such great lengths to keep them from thoughts of hope, but she was never one to be dissuaded from the idea that she would be one of the lucky ones: those that were truly cherished by their Masters and found contentment with their place in the world. And she had won that lottery, of this she was certain.

She hadn’t even made it 24 hours.

She knew she should continue on until the transport van arrived. She hadn’t heard them call, but it must already be on its way. She probably had enough time to bus and wash the dishes from breakfast, and she wanted to serve until the very last moment, but she was shaking too hard to trust her legs beneath her let alone carrying a tray of dishes.

As she tried to steady herself and regain composure she missed the heartbreaking look her Sir and Miss shared above her. As one they slid down to bracket her on the floor, wrapping their arms around her shaking form and whispering soothing words until her body finally stilled.

It was her Miss that spoke first, after placing a tender hand on her sticky cheek and lifting until their eyes met.

“You are ours, and that’s not going to change unless you want it to.” She waited for the words to take hold before continuing. “Do you want that to change?”

The girl – _their_ girl – shook her head frantically before remembering herself. “No, Miss. No, I don’t want that to change. Please.” She looked between her Sir and Miss with pleading eyes – pleading to stay, pleading to be believed, but most of all pleading to find in their faces what she needed to believe this was true.

She looked down into her lap and found that she was holding tight to her left silver cuff with her right hand, rotating it back and forth around her wrist nervously. In her right cuff was her own reflection, face blotchy and pale, but she could also see the faces of her Masters on either side looking at her with such tenderness that she thought it a trick of the light until she turned to face them.

Her Sir smiled with more fondness than she could even understand and ran his knuckles across her cheek. She nuzzled into them instinctively as the fear drained away to exhaustion.

“Good,” was all he said, but the smile that reached his eyes was all she’d needed.


	3. A Test of Patience

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Girl crosses a line and is punished accordingly

“One.”

His girl’s mouth fell open in surprise as he held up a solitary, threatening finger indicating the infraction.

Months into her service to her Sir and Miss and they had developed quite a bold and unconventional dynamic, filled with banter and what some might refer to as bratting (because it was). It wasn’t surprising that they tolerated and even encouraged this, given she had been bid on and purchased specifically for defying the rules and meeting her perspective (now current) Masters’ gaze at auction. But despite her propensity for toeing at the line, she was terrible at discerning when she had crossed it.

“Wha-?!” It was out of her mouth before she could stop it, but her jaw snapped shut on its own from the look that syllable garnered her. _Fuck._

She had been on her way out of the bedroom to shower off the sweat of riding Sir’s cock for the better part of an hour ( _goddamn that man had stamina_ ) when one of the flippantly flirty retorts she’d thrown over her shoulder had clearly landed well beyond the boundaries of that line. Now she was up on her knees, hands laced behind her head, staring forward awaiting Sir’s retribution. She had no interest in earning a second one.

He circled her and crouched directly behind her, his chin just above her shoulder.

“So.”

She could hear a smile in his voice when he spoke, but it was the dangerous kind. She was in so much trouble right now.

“You don’t think that I can make you come without you allowing it.” It was a statement because it was what she had just asserted, but she was no longer anywhere near confident on this point. “Let’s test that theory, shall we?”

 _Fuck._ From this position, with her knees slightly apart, she could still feel his cum dripping out of her and running down her thighs. That alone had her flustered and hot again, meaning she was starting off this little game at a disadvantage. She was also wearing her house cuffs and collar, all soft black leather with silver D-rings, allowing quick attachment to almost anything anywhere in the house. The possibilities ahead of her were too numerous to even begin to predict her fate.

“If you’ll recall,” he said as he moved to the toy chest on the other side of the room outside her line of sight, “you, and by proxy your _body_ , is mine.”

His footsteps returned and there was a weighty pause before the toy he was holding an inch from her left ear clicked on. The intensity of the vibration was so strong she swore she could feel a difference in air pressure just from the Hitachi's proximity. 

"That means that whether or not you come is determined by me or your Miss alone," He growled into the other ear before stepping back slightly. "Stand and present."

She was up on her feet immediately, with her knees locked and her hands still laced into the short hairs at the back of her head.

"You will keep your mouth shut and your legs open. And I think it goes without saying that you will. not. come." He gripped her hard at the junction between neck and shoulder with one hand to hold her firmly in place and then reached around her with the Magic Wand and pressed the vibrating head firmly to her cunt and held it there.

The sudden sensation had her whole body seizing up. She was glad she had locked her knees because she may not have maintained position if she hadn't, but if she didn't relax soon she was not going to be able to obey his last command. 

She had to focus. Focus on the wall. Focus on breathing. Focus on holding position. Focus on LITERALLY ANYTHING other than the spreading burn between her legs. She could do this. She was in control. She had this.

Sir shifted slightly and hit the button on the next setting up and she _no longer had this, oh fuck!_

Her hands fisted in the hair at the back of her head and pulled, but nothing could distract her from the inferno that was quickly consuming her. Every bit of her burned from the inside with such intensity that she could practically see the flames. Every exhale was a closed mouth scream from deep inside her chest, but nothing was going to stop the chain reaction now. All she could do was hold on and hope she stayed conscious through to the end. There was a very real possibility of failure there as well.

_I will not come, I will not come, I will not-_

Her body betrayed her with a rush of relief and mortification in equal measure, as a virtual waterfall of fluid poured from her abused cunt onto the carpet below. Her eyes were locked forward, but she wasn't processing anything through them anymore, her brain completely offline with the shock of how hard she had come and how that meant she had clearly and unequivocally disobeyed her Sir.

As the vibrator clicked off, the room fell into a deafening silence, disturbed only by her ragged breathing. She heard the Hitachi being placed on a chest of drawers for her to clean later and a towel dropped down on the floor at her feet. Before she could bend down to start cleaning up the mess she had made her Sir was there before her, pressed close and enveloping her in his arms. He backed up, pulling her with him until she was pulled down on top of him as he lay back on the bed, cradling her head into his chest and letting her heart and lungs return to a less frantic rhythm.

"Now..." he said once she was finally able to relax. "Whose body is this?" he asked, reaching down with both hands and palming her ass, grinding her soaked cunt up the length of the hard cock between them ( _did he even have a refractory period?!_ ).

"Yours, Sir," she breathed.

"And what part of this is yours?" he growled, biting down on her shoulder viciously. Her body tensed and she cried out at the sudden sharp pain but still managed to gasp out her response.

"None of it, Sir!"

"So if I wanted to use your tender cunt right now, splitting you open and filling you up again and again until I was finally sated...?" He lifted her hips slightly, balancing her just on the tip of his cock and waited, eyes locked on hers with terrible intent.

She stared back, wide eyed prey about to be consumed, and whimpered. She should have known it would have the opposite effect, garnering no mercy. In an instant she was flipped onto her back, arms pinned apart towards the corners of the bed as he drove himself home, deep inside her in one brutal thrust. She shrieked at the sudden intrusion and tried instinctively to pull away, but his hips pinned her down still buried in her to the hilt.

Releasing her left wrist he placed his broad hand around her neck and shifted his weight up slightly to put enough pressure on her throat for the threat to be understood, then used his other hand to secure her wrist cuffs to the chains attached to each bedpost. When she was tightly secured he reached over to the bedside table and pulled the ball gag out, stuffing her mouth full to muffle the screams he knew she wouldn't be able to hold back and cinching it tightly behind her head.

The chains rattled as she instinctively pulled at her restraints and it made Sir chuckle at her futile act. 

"Oh, girl," he said with a voice laced in false sympathy, "did you think that was your punishment?" 

Her eyes went wide as she stilled, chest suddenly heavy with this revelation. 

"We haven't even started." With that, he leaned down to hold her now terrified gaze from inches away, sealed his hand over the ball gag and pinched her nose closed.

She hadn't been expecting that and thus hadn't filled her lungs in anticipation, so she was struggling and thrashing what little she could almost immediately. The weight of his hand kept her head straight ahead, though she wouldn't have been able to tear her eyes from his stare even if she'd been given the chance. There was no indication that she would ever breathe again in those eyes, completely unaffected by her growing desperation. Nothing she did would make a difference.

_Oh._

As the world began to shrink with the growing black along the edges of her vision she stilled herself and lowered her gaze, turning full control over to him to do with her what he pleased. She was learning a number of lessons tonight, it would seem, though this may just be her last.

The stillness lasted an eternity, but just as the world began to slip away from her the pressure on her nose was gone and air raced into the vacuum of her lungs. The ball gag prevented her appreciation from being verbal, though that was just as well. She was really in no state to do anything except gasp for breath at this point so she barely noticed that Sir had pulled out. She did notice, however, when his weight and heat were suddenly gone. It left her feeling empty and vulnerable. She didn't like it.

The first crack of thick rubber on the tender skin of her inner thigh startled the breath right back out of her in a muffled shriek. The thick red welt that formed there was nothing like the thin cane stripes she reveled in. This was the unmistakable beginnings of a deep bruise formed by the business end of Sir's crop, a tool they had all learned was the most effective correction device as it was the only impact tool girl didn't derive some semblance of pleasure from.

A second blow directly over the first and the chains rattled as she bucked and writhed to get away from Sir's cruelty. Her legs had been secured to the posts at the bottom of the bed at some point by more chain, and she could not pull away.

As the third layered on top of its predecessors the tears flowed. She tried to push her apologies past the gag, a constant and desperate "I'M SORRY! I'M SORRY!" unintelligible past the ball.

Just as that piece of raw and angry skin began to numb from over-stimulation, Sir changed targets. Soft flesh of the stomach. Taut span of ribs. Right nipple. Junction of the hip. Right nipple. Sole of the foot. Inner thigh. Right _motherfucking_ nipple!

Her voice was hoarse, now no more than a weak and pitiable mewling with each strike. Her body had stopped flinching from the strikes at some point, total exhaustion taking hold of every muscle. She felt submerged, deep below the surface of thought.

She was on her knees now, bent over with her chest on the mattress and her arms stretched above her head, gag gone... though she couldn't remember having been guided into this position. She also wasn't entirely sure when the strikes and stopped, but the room was completely still and she felt like that had been the case for some time. Caressing hands ran up and down the planes of her unmarked back and the world continued to feel thick and warm and heavy around her. 

"I'm going to take what's mine now, girl." His voice was strong and comforting around her, the darkness in his presence warm rather than threatening.

This was where she belonged. This was right. Everything in the universe felt fundamentally right from where she floated. He entered her and she fell that much more into the deep. Everything was a vibrant rich blue. The air smelled comforting and warm. Her lungs drew deep with every rocking thrust, her own pleasure muted by the vibrance of the universe enveloping her, a distant thrum and pulse of physical response below the blanket of subspace. 

When the world re-materialized around her she was wrapped in his arms, his strong form pinning her down from behind, legs entwined and his face nestled up against her collar at the back of her neck. She knew he had come only by just how slick she felt. She had never been so far under and the world still felt a bit like velvet around her.

She wanted to stay here forever.

She wanted to be his - be their's - forever.

She had learned today that it didn't matter what she wanted. It was an incredible stroke of luck that her Sir wanted those things for her.

She would never want again. There would never be a need.

 

 

 

 


End file.
